In sports, everyone is a winner—some people just win better than others. Like the City of New Orleans, which overcame the devastation of blah, blah, blah. When does Mardi Gras start?

Yes, there isn't much to say about rebuilding the spirit of a city that hasn't already been covered, so I'll just go ahead and agree with our commenter who pointed out that the guy who created this sign probably doesn't live in Louisiana. If he does, he should be beaten with a muffaletta. I know Drew Brees totally spun the Earth backwards last night and undid that terrible storm, but for a lot of people it's still very real so don't ruin this otherwise happy moment by being a overzealous jackass about it.

The media has kept it surprisingly low-key this week, but come Sunday there will be no avoiding the …
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I've spent most of the last week arguing that the people of New Orleans are nothing if not realistic. A loss would not have sent the city into a tailspin of despair and a win wouldn't fool residents into believing all their problems are over. That's why it was so easy for the nation to get behind them. They are very, very happy at the moment, and rightfully so, but when these long-suffering fans finally wake up from their post-game slumber (I'm guessing that will be sometime around 10:00 a.m. ... on Tuesday) they'll go back to being the same old jazz-loving freaks they normally are. Life goes on in the Big Easy.

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After all, those parade floats won't build themselves.

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Here are some other big winners who did not win quite as big:

Sean Payton: The only thing that could have made that onside kick better was if the coach had done the Sam Cassell "big balls" dance afterward. Payton worked his four quarters game plan to perfection, and every big decision he made paid off handsomely. Even if he hadn't been squared off against an inanimate object, it's hard to imagine a better coaching job in a bigger spot. Free gumbo for life!

Drew Brees: Wow. I remember when the prize for Super Bowl MVP was just a Pontiac Aztec.

Pasty white asses: There were no fewer than six commercials last night that prominently featured unattractive dudes without pants on. That's not funny. That's a sickness. And I'm pretty sure that Africa commercial was racist.

Jeremy Shockey: How did the least likable Saint—and the guy that you probably forgot was still on the team—end up with the ball in hands at such a key moment? Eh, let him have it. It's a celebration!

Hangers-on: One unfortunate side effect of the sentimental favorite actually winning? Annoying bandwagony a-holes who couldn't give two shits about football or the Saints got to celebrate "their" incredible victory last night. I was reminded of this semi-annual occurrence at the terrible scenester Super Bowl party I ended up at, when the girl who sat next to me the entire game and didn't watch a single frame of the action, finally turned on me during the Colts' final drive and demanded that I explain to her what was going on. When the game ended she cheered louder than anybody. I hate people so much sometimes.

Tracy Porter: In the span of just three Sundays, the man has permanently blemished two of the greatest careers in football history. Do not cross him.